Here is an uncharacteristically angsty little one-shot that I wrote with only the inspiration of the line 'I watched you fall." It would play over and over in my head, so I wrote it down. I didn't stop writing until it was done. Funny how things happen. Well, here it is.

I decided to post this one un-betaed but if you think it needs it, let me know. I have a few betas I could send it to.

I stole the title from Evanescence, so be warned.

Actually, I stole the characters as well.


I watched you fall. The Dark Lord was bruised, broken. You had chosen your spells well. I had been watching you closely from behind my black mask in between blasting holes in your ranks.

You destroyed Voldemort will a well-placed killing curse and sank to your knees. With your left hand you pushed your sweat-drenched, bloodied locks out of your eyes. Your chest was rising and falling sporadically. It took everything I had not to run to your side and help you.

I had to dodge a disarming charm and responded with the first spell that entered my mind. I don't even remember what it was.

My sudden movement drew your fatigued gaze to me. I thought I spied fear there for a moment and I wanted to take off my mask and assure you it was alright, I was alright

So I did.

Everyone and their house-elf knew I was a Death Eater. It's not like I had a choice, just look at who my father was. I watched your tense demeanor melt away instantly. You went to stand but was suddenly kicked back down by one of my fellow Death Eaters. By my father.

"You've fulfilled your pathetic duty Potter," I heard him snarl as he ground the heel of his boot into your neck. "Are you prepared to die?"

Lucius pulled off his mask and I remembered in disgust that my father liked to let the people he killed look upon his face. From my position I could tell you hadn't anwsered, holding his gaze firmly.

"You are a fool, Potter," my father spat as he moved his foot over to your arms, crushing your wrists one after the other. He then sat down on your stomach, after which he whispered, "Did you really thing you could get away without suffering?"

"I have suffered," you croaked, trying not to let the pain in your voice show. "I have lost almost everything. My godfather, my best friends, my classmates, my family. Fuck Malfoy, I have even lost myself. Don't tell me I haven't suffered. I have suffered more than any one person should." You paused, tears on the verge of falling. "So go on, cast your little spell and kill me, but don't fool yourself by thinking I haven't suffered."

I found myself walking over to the scene, torn between saving you and watching you die.

"Rather outspoken for a condemned man, aren't you Potter?" My father chuckled bitterly. "I'm not going to cast Avada Kedavra on you. You aren't worthy of falling the way the Dark Lord did."

"So I'm not worthy to die the way I killed your Lord? Doesn't..." you said but stopped when a cold blade pressed against your neck.

"Silence Potter," Lucius hissed as he dragged the blade up the side of your face to rest over your scar. His face twisted slightly as he sank the tip of the knife under your skin, loosing it and peeling away the scar.

"Little souvenir. I'll probably give it to Draco; he's always been obsessed with you."

You tried your best not to flinch as your own blood ran into your eyes. You then rolled your head to the side and spied my rushing to you. There was a sudden shake of your body and you squeezed your eyes shut, your mouth falling open.

Your body jerked powerfully again as Lucius drove the knife into your body once more. A wave of coughing consumed you and a fountain of blood escaped your lips.

I found myself running for my life, running for yours. When I reached you my father looked up at me and smirked. "Hello Draco, would you like to help?"

I snapped his neck easily then pushed him off of you. I didn't even blink.

"Dr...Draco..." you croaked and I blinked furiously. "I feel..."

I took your hands into mine and Apparated us out of the battlefield and into your flat. I didn't try to move you to your bed, as you were coughing again.

"Do you want me to heal you?" I heard myself ask as I ripped open your shirt, examining your stab wounds.

I heard your wand clatter to the floor and I then felt your right hand cup my cheek.

"No. Don't heal me."

I found myself trying not to cry.

"Let me help you, I don't want you to die," I whispered, studying your clouded emerald eyes intently.

You only smiled gently and shook your head. "Just leave me..."

I started to argue, but the finality of your tone suggested otherwise. You blinked rather slowly and I leaned down, placing a gently kiss on your bloody lips.

"I will wait for you, Draco."

I felt a single, unchecked tear slide down my cheek and I pushed your hair out of the wound Lucius had created on your forehead.

"Harry, I..." I began, but you shook your head.

"Don't, don't say it. You don't want to."

Another tear slid down my cheek. "Yes I do Harry," I whispered. "I'm not saying it to make you feel better; it's too late for that. When I say something, I mean it. I love you. So much."

A violent shutter coursed through your body and you smiled, your pearly teeth coated in blood. "I love you too. Sorry it took so long for you to figure it out."

A sharp pain shot a hole in my heart and I quickly Apparated away before I had to watch you die.

I landed next to my father, lying on my back. I turned my head slightly and saw the lightning-bolt scar gripped tightly in his hand.

I peeled it out of his grip and held it against my chest.

"Draco, are you alive?"

I opened my eyes and squinted up at the person who had spoken. The dark-haired man helped me to my feet and I tucked the bit of skin into my pocket.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thank Blaise." I lowered my gaze and tucked my wand away.

"Where's Potter? Saw you with him. I suppose he killed your father?" Blaise poked the body of my father with his toe and tucked his hair behind his ears.

"Yeah. I took Potter away and finished him off," I heard myself say in an emotionless, flat tone. "I need to go."

"I'll go with you," Blaise said softly and grabbed my arm, Apparating me back to the Manor.

I don't exactly remember what happened after that. Blaise didn't linger, on that much I'm certain. I watched the sun sink down out of view and I blinked slowly.

Time crawled by very slowly. I was vaguely aware of someone coming into my bedroom more than once. I just curled myself up more tightly and tried to figure out what I was feeling. I felt empty. I wanted to cry, I wanted to be angry, I wanted...I wanted to feel.

I wanted to mourn, I wanted to know something. I had to keep up a facade, I couldn't let myself slip. But I wanted to, oh how I wanted to.

I wish I could have went back to your flat and check on you, but judging by the consistent visit of...whoever kept coming...I could not.

I rolled over for what seemed the millionth time and tried to close my eyes and sleep, but I couldn't, not when I was so...unsure about everything.

I didn't feel sad as a rule, not about my father, not about killing aurors, not about my losses, I just ached all over. Ached to know how you were, if you were at all.

Needless to say, I didn't sleep. I crawled out of bed and sent an anonymous letter to St. Mungo's. There was a slight relief though my body, but not much.

"Master Malfoy sir, is you waking, sir?" came a gentle voice from the doorway and a rather haggard-looking elf came sauntering in.

I sank back down on the bed and sighed. "I never went to sleep, elf. What do you want?"

The elf shivered at the iciness of my tone and stammered, "There is someone here to be seeing you sir. He has been here for a long time, he has. He seemed worried, sir."

My eyes widened and I whispered, "Is it a boy my age? Is he alright?"

The elf nodded its head, her shredded ears flopping. "Yes, he seems to be in good health sir. I've seen him before sir; he looks familiar to me, Tis why I let him stay. Come sir, he has been waiting for a while."

I nodded and followed the elf mutely. "Where is Narcissa?" I finally asked, wondering where my mother was.

"She's gone sir, left the country. Since your father is dead sir she left it all to you."

I made an inaudible noise that I don't even know the meaning of. My father had finally given me everything, everything I could have asked for and yet I had absolutely nothing. The only thing I ever wanted was someone to love me, someone for me to love. That was the only thing Lucius couldn't give me.

We reached the parlor before I even realized we had left. "He's waiting through there sir. Would you like me to bring you anything to eat of drink sir?"

"No, I'm fine, now go," I grumbled and the elf scurried away, leaving me alone in front of the closed parlor door.

I took a deep breath and told myself over and over, "It's not him, it's not him. He's dead, he's gone." I had to tell myself that it couldn't be you, there would be no way you were alive. It couldn't be...

I bit my lip, pushed open the door, and almost collapsed into sobs when it, indeed, wasn't you.

It was only Blaise, who was looking quite annoyed.

"Ah, Draco, I thought you had surely died. Are you alright?" I could tell by the tone of his voice that he could care less about my condition.

I only nodded and Blaise stood in a swift motion. "Excellent. Am I correct in assuming that Lucius cleared the Manor of all incriminating evidence? The Ministry will probably drop by later in the week for a search."

"Yes, he took care of that a while ago."

Blaise arched an eyebrow in a very Lucius-like manor. "Brilliant. I have to be on my way, then."


He swept past me and I shivered. He sent a rather disdainful look to the elf as she tiptoed past him, placing the tray on the side table beside the main chair. I sank down into the chair Blaise had vacated and the elf handed me the newspaper.

"There is a story that might interest you sir."

I read the headline quickly, scanning the rather fetching photo of you in your Auror uniform. The story read:


'As the dust settles over the final battlefield we finally see the extent of out losses. There are only very few who haven't suffered, and those very few are lucky,' reports Rita Skeeter, Journalist Extrodinar.

'We all knew we could expect great things from Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Little did we know that it would be that very boy who would eventually end the dark reign of Lord Voldemort. (And by the way, I did say it, so curse me.)

Several eyewitness accounts confirm this. Harry Potter was the one to wear down the Dark Lord and eventually cast the very worst of the Unforgiveables, the dreaded 'Avada Kedavra'.

After that moment, however, the events became shady. Potter has been reported missing and many presume him dead. Some time after the battle, St. Mungo's hospital received an anonymous letter voicing concern for Potter's well-being and where they would be able to find the twenty-year old. However when the healers arrived there was no Potter, dead or alive, to be found.

I, along with the rest of the wizarding world, still hold a certain amount of hope that our saviour is still alive. If not, we would like to make it known that we appreciated his valiant efforts and his purposeful live.'

"She actually wrote a good one for once," I said to no one in particular and looked briefly at the rest of the article. It went on to talk about Voldemort and his confirmed followers.

There was no information disclosed about my father. Pity. That would have been worth framing.

It ended with the time and date for a Harry Potter Memorial Service at Hogwarts. Seems they were going to dedicate the Quidditch pitch to you.

"You'd think they could do better than the bleeding Quidditch pitch, wouldn't you?" came a quiet voice from behind me. A voice that sounded oddly like...

No. It couldn't be. I stiffened visibly and shut my eyes. Why do the gods have to fuck with me like this? You're dead. The only person who I allowed myself to love.

There was a gently click of shoes on the polished wood floor as, not you, whoever it was, approached me.

"As far as they know I died to save them and all they are going to do is name a damn Quidditch pitch after me," the voice sounded again and I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, holding in my tears, my hope, my pain.

I felt gentle hands on my legs and I did my very best not to pull away.

Fleeting fingers around my cheek pushed my loose blond hair away from my face and I sighed sadly, a tear escaping my closed eyes.

"Open your eyes love." A whisper floats from your lips and I hesitated, not wanting to let my hopes up. I wasn't sure if I was merely scared of opening my eyes and finding you weren't there at all or opening my eyes and finding you there.

"Please look at me love, I need you to believe me," you whispered and cradled my head in your cold, calloused hands. I leaned into your loving touch despite myself.

"Trust me, Draco."

I finally opened my eyes and sobbed, almost squeezing them back shut. "It can't be you," I hissed through my tears, staring into your sparkling emerald eyes. "It can't be, you''re..."

A solitary finger rested on my lips and I sobbed again. "Don't do this to me," I hissed, "you can't be here. You're dead."

You grinned half-heartedly as tears began to pool in your eyes. "No Draco...I'm very much alive. I healed myself when I realized I didn't want to leave you. I don't want to leave you."

Your fingers stroked my hair lovingly and I bit my lip. I started to speak again but you lay your finger back over my lips. You slowly climbed into my lap and rested your smooth forehead against mine.

"Stop crying love, you'll make me cry," you said with a laugh.

My body shook slightly and I slid my arms around your waist, closing my eyes again. "I can't stop..."

"Oh god Draco, I love you so much," you sighed and the smallest tear leaked out of your right eye.

Before I could think you captured my lips in a kiss, sweet and slow. I felt you sink deeper into my lap, a delicate moan breaking free of your lips and into my mouth.

You finally pulled away for a breath, your brilliant, haunted orbs never leaving my face. I tightened my grip on you and narrowed my eyes slightly. "There's something different about...Merlin...your scar..."

"It's gone," you whispered, "My skin grew back normal. It's over, it's all over."

I smiled widely and sniffled, studying your face as carefully as I could. I never wanted to have to wonder what you looked like again. I noticed the smallest scar near the left corner of your mouth.

You rested your head on my shoulder and make the smallest content noise in the back of your throat.

"Draco, I have something to ask you," you whispered carefully and threaded your fingers through my hair slowly.


You cleared your throat and said, "How do you feel about me going by James Malfoy? I...I don't really want people to know I'm alive. You can still call me Harry and everything. I just wanted to ask you before I did anything."

I tried my very best not to smile too widely and I nodded. "Yeah, sure, I don't mind. How are you going to change things? Don't you have to…?"

"I can get in the documents area of the Ministry easier than killing a pixie. I've created a fake life and everything. I'm legally your husband and I decided to take your name. It was James Prewett. I was born in Surrey, parents are dead, and you know, the usual. Oh, and I'm getting coloured contacts and dying my hair, what colour should my hair be?"

"Did you lie in bed and think all of this through while you were healing?"

You nodded against my neck and sighed. "I was thinking chocolate-brown hair and blue eyes. That works, right?"

I kissed your forehead gently and said, "I don't care, as long as you're here."

"I will be. I always will be. I love you."

I leaned down and kissed you again, my tongue running over your bottom lip lightly.

"I love you too," I whispered against your moist lips and sighed. "I'll move your stuff in tomorrow if there isn't anyone at your flat. I can probably find you some dye and contacts."

"Thanks love, do you maybe want me to cook you a proper breakfast, you look rather like a starved ferret."

"I resent that."

You snorted and kissed my fingertips so lightly I wasn't even sure you really did. "Yeah, you would."


That's it on that one. That was longer than I thought it was, I'm quite sure. What did you think? Drop a review!